The library was so still, as Lane faced Salamin, a determined look in her black eyes. “I need to know who you are. You aren’t Sedwick Draken. Sal? What does that mean? What does it hide?” Her hand still rested on the hilt of her sword. “You’re holding back.”

  Salamin gazed at her, unable to speak. “You trust Aleda’s wisdom?” Aleda had seen through him and had understood.

  “It’s not enough,” Lane said, shaking her head. She jumped as Farak’s body twitched, the body going through the last throes of death.

  How many times had Salamin witnessed that on the battlefield? His foes at his feet, empty eyes staring up to eternity. The enemies of the Order vanquished and defeated. The immense feeling of emptiness afterwards, and the meaningless celebrations and rewards.

  “Please trust that I am on your side, Lane.” Salamin continued to gaze at Farak’s body. “Please don’t make me explain to you. The answers are too dangerous right now.”

  Lane’s breathing slowed, and finally she nodded. “For Aleda, I will give you my trust. For a time. I will need to know. Promise you will tell me.”

  “When the time is right, I will tell you everything.”

  She removed her hand from the hilt of the sword. “The book,” she said, pointing to the leather bound cover on a table. “That is the statue?”

  Salamin touched the ancient worn leather. Those green eyes mocked him. Inside was forbidden, dark magic, and yet, here in the Keep, and perhaps the Order wide, it was now a part of it. He reached out his burnt finger and felt the pulse of energy, just like the statue.

  He glanced over again at Farak’s body. The dark energy was enticing. There was power inside. Much more than the staid void or non-existent moon energies. Tempting indeed, and perhaps that was where Haldar had gone wrong.

  “Open it up,” Lane said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

  Salamin hesitated. “There might be something dangerous on the pages. We have to be careful. Repeat nothing out loud.”

  Lane gave a brief nod, staring at the creature on the cover.

  Salamin flipped open the cover and saw the writing in a language he didn’t understand.

  Gasping, Lane touched her fingers to the delicate fine linen. “The words were gibberish at first, and now its forming into shadowtongue.”

  Salamin gazed down on it, and could not make sense of the swirling lines and dots.

  “It’s a prayer of entreaty,” Lane said, “to the god Malak, and his guardians.” She flipped another page and gasped. “It’s doing it again. It’s translating. I can read it.” Her eyes went from the page to the upper window and glazed over. “Sal,” she said, her voice weak.

  Her arms jerked, and her dark eyes turned pale, and gazed directly at Salamin.

  She spoke in the shadowtongue. “This one is mine.” The voice hissing from Lane’s throat was otherworldly and low. “I claim her as my own.” A grin swept over Lane’s mouth and up to her eyes. It was not a friendly grin, but one of vicious intent.

  Salamin slammed the book shut. Just reading the words had opened her up to this power.

  Jerking, Lane reached into her pocket and held out a green gem.

  It was an eye of the statue. “Lane,” Salamin began, but she turned slowly and walked away towards the body of Farak.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Lane?”

  She paused over the body and brought the green gem down onto Farak’s forehead. Low words of power resonated through her throat. They were not hers, but of an otherworldly being.

  Farak jerked, and eyes became clear. He blinked, then smiled up at Lane. Arms raised, Lane continued chanting and Farak rose to his feet, his body uncoordinated and limbs loose, and it focused on Salamin. “You,” another otherworldly voice called. “You will die.”

  Salamin backed up. Lane had somehow brought him back from the dead. It was the gemstone. Lunging, he reached up for Lane’s hand and grabbed the stone.

  The results were immediate, and Salamin was shaken to the core by its power. The energy swirled through his burned hand and up his arm and into his chest.

  At last, a voice called to him in his mind.

  “Getore!” Salamin cried, and his body pushed back from the energy, as the moonpath shield came up. “Getore,” he said as his own energy drained away. But the energy of the gem faded as well.

  Lane gasped, awakening from the trance. “Sal!” she called out. Farak was moving closer in a clumsy lopsided gait, reaching his pale hands out for the gem.

  Salamin had no more energy to fight and collapsed on the ground. Farak lunged at him, hands clasping around his throat, tightening. At the same time, Lane thrust her sword down, into his chest. The tip penetrated straight through, and Salamin saw the tip emerge just a fraction from his own chest.

  “Die,” Lane hissed, and pulled her sword out of the flesh.

  Farak’s body once again collapsed to the floor.

  “What did I do?,” Lane whispered, shaking her head. “It was like I fell asleep. “I’m so sorry. I read those words and then I don’t remember anything else until just now.” She looked over at Farak and shuddered.

  Salamin had no more strength. Taking even a step, took a tremendous amount of willpower. “It’s the gem,” he whispered. “We need to get rid of it.” He dropped it onto the floor, and it rolled and positioned itself next to Lane.

  “It’s whispering to me,” Lane said. “It wants me to pick it up.”

  He’d handled dangerous items before, but back then, he had more spells at his disposal. This had the potential to make an undead. The book and the gem were clues as to what the Order had in store.

  Using his burnt hand, Salamin reached down and picked up the stone. Even with the barrier, the power rushed through him, rocking him back. Quickly he pocketed the stone in his tunic, feeling the power subside.

  “Put the book back, Lane.” There would be other spells in there, and if just reading had such power, he didn’t want to know. Not yet. He’d need to find a safe place for the gem. So far, his shield spell seemed to limit its power.

  “Help me move him back in the corner..” Salamin didn’t want to touch him. Farak’s body had been mobilized by a dark power. He grabbed both hands and dragged him, as Lane took his feet.

  They had just settled Farak into the shadows when a voice called out. “Who’s there?”

  They had not had time to move the book off the table.

  The young mage Akar held a lamp in his hand and regarded Salamin and then Lane. His eyes narrowed and focused on the book. “What are you two doing here? This is a restricted area.” He pointed to the book. “Were you reading that?”

  Both Salamin and Lane shook their heads. “We were afraid to open it. We saw the creature on the front and were wondering about it.”

  Akar grabbed the book and placed it on a high shelf. “This is not for initiates,” he warned. “There are powers you don’t understand yet, and can’t understand. You’ll know more once you get into the Order. “ He turned his back and scanned the books. Salamin held his breath when he glanced over to where Farak was hidden. “There are reasons that some things will not make sense to you yet,” Akar continued. “Be patient, and focus on the Catacombs.”

  Lane nodded, her eyes wide.

  “We’ll keep this to ourselves,” Akar said, gazing over his shoulder down the hall. “No need to get the Keep in an uproar before the journey tomorrow. I suggest you both get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”

  Salamin bowed his head and moved to the door, not daring to breathe. He hoped, beyond hope that the shadows were enough to conceal Farak’s body.

  Akar closed the library doors behind them, and they followed him back to the sleeping quarters.

  Elian, Parric and Caden were all sleeping on their cots, as Salamin moved slowly around them to his own bed.

  He took the green gem out of his pocket and stared at it. “Getore,” he murmured again, placing the shield around it.

  It glowed a sickly green. There had been a special chamber for forbidden objects in the Order’s Citadel. He didn’t have that here, or the experts on such dark powers.

  Salamin slid under the covers, exhausted. He slipped the gem into his pocket. He'd have to figure out how to dispose of it. One thing he was certain of: Haldar had fallen to this darkness a long time ago, and he’d ascended in the Order in short time.

  Tomorrow, he would understand the full effects of this shift. One of them would be sacrificed for the First Gate. “Not if I can help it,” he murmured, and drifted off into a deep sleep filled with disturbing images and dreams.